The Butler
by Maiden of the Moon
Summary: Quoth the butler, "yes, my lord."  -A Kuroshitsuji-themed rewrite of "The Raven." SebaCiel.-


**Disclaimer:** I don't own "The Raven" or "Kuroshitsuji." I'm just not that cool.

**Author's Note:** This… um… didn't turn out at all as I'd planned. XD; But I'm still rather fond of it. Since, you know, this poem is constantly used in the fandom… I figured we needed our own version.

**Warnings:** SebaCiel. (Sorry. It was too long of a poem not to throw that in there. ^^;) Probably rather fail. Written in, lyke, 2 hours.

**Dedication:** For J Michael Tatum. Why? Because I love him, and I love his Sebastian, and even though I'm sure he'll never see this, I dunno… as I was writing it, it made me think of him. So here's to you, Tatum. You rock. I'm sorry this doesn't. XD;

**XXX**

**The Butler**

**X**

_Based Directly on "The Raven"_

**XXX**

Once upon a bloodstained altar, bruised and scarred and bound in halters,  
Over which there loomed above me eyeless masks all stained in gore,  
While I writhed and while I buckled, suddenly there came a chuckle—  
As if Hell itself were laughing, laughing at the pain I bore  
Tis a fantasy, I figured, birthed from all the pain I bore—  
Only this, and nothing more

Ah, distinctly I remember every breath of that December,  
As I cried for my dead family on the rusted iron floor  
How I prayed for Him to save me— dancing on the edge of blasph'my  
'Til I realized with a shudder what He had for me in store;  
All the Hell and all the Horror that He had for me in store  
Of His "love" I want no more

And no sooner had I chided and abandoned faith decided  
And that any hand proffered be a hand that I'd reach for,  
Did that giggle—soft repeating—synchronized to my heart beating  
Fill my ears and mind with whispers that I couldn't bear ignore—  
Spider webs of silken sweetness that I couldn't bear ignore:  
"He'll be with you nevermore."

In a rush, my fears discarded; in a rush, my heart was hardened  
"I assure you that His presence is a presence I deplore  
Though the faithful are all heathens, they don't often summon demons—  
And yet here you stand before me and my life you will restore  
Vengeance you will wreak me and my home you will restore  
This I ask and nothing more."

With tilted head and serpent smile, he met my eyes and gazed a while,  
And through those glassy windows all my heart he did explore:  
All my memories devoured, all my hopes and dreams he scoured  
And he snickered as he murmured what I'd forgotten to implore:  
"For the services you ask and for the vengeance you implore,  
I want your soul; nothing more."

Still upon the altar waiting, all his warnings felt so grating;  
Thus with my snarls soaked in fury, reasoned rage I did outpour:  
"Will you disobey your master? Form a covenant with me—faster!  
Break the bonds and bars that bind me as you previously swore;  
Kill the bastards who have soiled me, as you previously swore—  
And my soul is yours forever more!"

With no further prompting uttered, nothing scarcely more than muttered  
My tormentors' hearts the devil promptly from their chests all tore;  
With this first revenge extracted, he and I were then contracted  
And when done we flew on darkness to the mansion's ashen door  
To the wreckage of the manor, scorched and battered as that door  
Where my parents lived no more

There are things once lost and burned that can never be returned  
But a house is just a house, just four walls and some decor;  
For a once-demonic raven, now a black-clad butler maven  
To reconstruct my haven was, to him, a simple chore:  
Like to dress me and to feed me, this was but a simple chore  
Quoth the butler, "yes, my lord."

And the butler, proud and doughty, stands beside me, tall and haughty  
For the role of "Devil's Noble" is not a job of simple lore;  
We are schemers who don't hesitate to drive our foes to checkmate  
And if the Queen demands it I will use him to wage war  
With my Knight to guard my throne I will continue to wage war  
'Til his final, "yes, my lord."

And though truths I'm always finding, those I seek remain in hiding  
All the hatred that I've bottled seems to warm him to his core  
Though his smirks all speak of knowledge never once does he acknowledge  
Nor bequeath me with the answer that would end the pact we swore  
Though my soul he longs and lusts for, by the pact That Day we swore  
He speaks only, "yes, my lord"

For a time I wondered blandly why on earth he acts so grandly—  
Why he bows and scrapes and worships like my all he does adore  
Bitter moods he calmly weathers without ruffling his feathers  
And I cannot help but wonder how he feels of our rapport  
What is fact and what is falsehood in his care for our rapport  
When he whispers, "yes, my lord"

And though he's often mocking when he's teasing and he's taunting  
I have seen in him a softness that I've scarcely known before;  
While I know my soul he's craving, what with how he's been behaving  
I cannot help but wonder if that's all he's lusting for  
If my body is as tempting as the soul he's lusting for  
As he murmurs, "yes, my lord"

As the years go by I wonder if our bond is based on hunger  
But I swore the day he saved me I'd no longer be a whore  
And I have no heart to offer as it died upon that altar  
I've no time to be a husband, let alone a paramour  
I refuse to yield or falter or to be his paramour  
Despite his sultry, "yes, my lord"

No, I won't succumb to pleading, and I won't admit to needing  
But his presence is a comfort that I cling to more and more;  
"Only you," I make him promise, "Never leave or be dishonest  
Stay beside me 'til the end and complete all that I implore  
All my orders and my dreams and everything that I implore."  
And he answers, "yes, my lord"

I am thirteen and I'm weary when I finally make a query  
When one day I think to ask him of the soul that I foreswore  
In my bed I watch him work as my own duties I shirk  
And the white of his pressed shirt reminds me of that winter's hoar  
Of the day we met in bloodshed and then walked into the hoar  
After his first "yes, my lord"

"Sebastian," said I, "Tell me now. When I pay you, as avowed:  
Reward you for your hard work with the soul you so adore  
How will it be extracted? And, after you have acted,  
What will happen to me when I'm but a body on the floor?  
Will you consume that body too, slowly rotting on the floor?"  
And he tells me, "yes, my lord"

I find it not at all surprising that my questions have him smiling  
As if musing on the promise that has joined us core to core;  
In his maw his teeth are winking as his eyes narrow in thinking  
Wond'ring if it's wise to tell his little master any more  
But he sees that I don't care for my own safety anymore  
Wanting more than "yes, my lord"

So he speaks in dark flirtation how he'll give in to starvation  
And surrender to temptation as he takes me on the floor;  
How he'll sup and how he'll savor every bite and changing flavor—  
And forever deep inside him I'll exist with our rapport  
"Our first kiss will thus immortalize our twisted, strange rapport?"  
Quoth my butler, "yes, my lord"

**XXX**


End file.
